


Oh How the Mighty Fall

by ab2fsycho



Series: Revolve [13]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: M/M, anyway, because she is doing research, flora gets the prof to talk, flora's had enough of yo shit, for her research, good job, he's not impressed, i have a mini don paolo eating popcorn and watching their bs, i know they are, it was important, it's bad when i have villains living in my head laughing at these characters, might i remind everyone that these are two grown ass men, what else is she gonna do when no one pays attention to her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 17:27:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2159010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ab2fsycho/pseuds/ab2fsycho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flora reaches a turning point and makes an executive decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh How the Mighty Fall

After a lunch spent watching Descole pick through his food, Layton decided he'd rather save the rest of the uneaten lunch for later. After cleaning up the kitchen with the professor, Flora watched him return to the bedroom. Alone with her own thoughts, she realized just how much was troubling her. Having frequent discussions with Descole while he was here only brought these issues to the forefront. The professor still hadn't talked to her, still hadn't been completely upfront with her and she knew it now. Something else was wrong, something he had been very good at hiding up until she'd seen the two men together that night. It didn't help that every now and then she'd catch one giving the other a sidelong glance that was not entirely malicious. Something was not right. Something in Layton's recounting of their acquaintance with one another was either not true or he'd majorly glossed over the details. He tended to do that when the problem at hand surrounded him.

She'd spent much time letting issues like this stew in her mind. She'd had a lot of practice dwelling on things that didn't seem or feel right. No, she wasn't dealing with mechanical instruments but the knowledge provided to her about such machinery still applied in some way. There was something off about the men's behavior. Both had many screws loose, the professor being more talented in concealing the tics those loose screws created, but the nuts and bolts involved seemed incredibly similar when she looked at both of them from different angles. The two had endured many of the same events, perhaps in more ways than she could conjure. They seemed to be two sides of the same disc, each with the same experiences and handling them in ways that were polar opposites. It would help if she knew the entirety of what they had in common, but what little she could led her to determine that they really weren't so different. It was clear they wanted to deny that, however.

What was clearer to her was their feelings for one another. She remembered little of her parents, but she remembered their love for her. She knew what real love looked like. That's why being surrounded by robots for most of her life, machines that could imitate and even convince passersby that they actually felt emotion, had been difficult for her. No matter how perfect the formula, machinery cannot fully duplicate a living, breathing individual. She knew love. She knew feeling. She knew sadness and heartbreak and anger and loss, and she could recognize it within a human being just as swiftly as she could recognize its absence or falseness in an automaton. What she saw in Layton and Descole was buried deep, safely hidden behind walls of brick and mortar. But it was there. Whatever the attachment was, it was there.

The vulnerability of those brick walls had become clear when Descole had had his panic attack. Or episode. She wasn't positive what it had been, but it had shaken him to the point that he hadn't spoken for at least twenty-four hours. When next he spoke it was a sarcastic quip, of course, but what she witnessed beforehand had confirmed her suspicions.

The professor had been tired and spent of late, but the night after the episode he'd paced up and down the halls without so much as a yawn. One hand clasped to his chin and mouth, the other behind his back, he'd appeared to be in deep thought. He hadn't even noticed her watching from her room, he'd been concentrating so hard. When the pacing stopped, he'd ended up in the bedroom. Out of curiosity, she'd gotten up to peak around the corner to see what he was doing. In the dark, he wouldn't have heard or seen her move. She was too quiet, which was a benefit when she was doing this sort of investigating. 

What she'd seen had told her everything she needed to know. At first, the professor had taken his seat by the bed. Descole was asleep, which was difficult for him to achieve but after that day he needed it. With his elbow resting on the nightstand, Layton rested his head in his hand and stared at Descole for a long while. He did this for so long Flora had almost stepped back into her room and ignored the professor. What changed her mind was when the professor lifted his head out of his hand and, with that same hand, reached over and brushed a strand of hair out of Descole's face.

Flora's eyes widened as she continued watching. The professor was very rarely affectionate, and for him to do something so tender was out of character for him. Yes, he'd placed a hand on the occasional sagging shoulder. He'd embraced. He'd attempted comforting someone with words. He'd never brushed hair out of anyone's face. He'd never stared at someone with that level of intensity save for one person she was sure, and that person was deceased. 

Just as she thought she was starting to see something, some emotion, bloom on his face it was like a valve had been shut off. His expression went dead as it had so often done. He got up and left the room, forcing her back into the darkness of hers so he didn't know she'd been watching. He continued pacing, but she'd seen what she'd needed. She'd gotten the information she wanted, but wanted more still.

Determination setting in, she began fixating on an idea, a plan of sorts. It would take a certain amount of sternness and honesty on her part, but it just had to be done. Since Descole had arrived, she'd seen more of the professor she used to know and she wanted him back more than ever. She just needed to find a way to get him back.

:)

The morning after Descole's episode, the man was still sound asleep in his bed. Layton had not slept a wink, and was beginning to feel it too. However, when he entered the kitchen, he was confronted by a straight-backed, resolute, assertive-looking Flora Reinhold. Usually this would have surprised him, impressed him even, but at the moment he was too exhausted to appreciate her demeanor. He didn't know what was about to hit him, but he certainly wasn't expecting the outburst he received. “Are you ready to talk yet?” He didn't answer her. That was the wrong tactic. “Of course you're not. You never are.”

“Flora—”

She cut him off. “Before he came, I thought I'd never see you again.”

“Flora, not—”

“I thought I was going to be stuck with an emotionally dead guardian and that I'd never see the man I came to care for and enjoy keeping company with.” She looked as though she were on the verge of tears. “I didn't expect you to be the same. Not after the future London incident. Not after Luke left. I expected you to be upset, but I didn't expect to lose you entirely.”

“Look, I—”

“And then he comes along, and now there's a whole new level of history I never would have known about you had he not shown up. And I'm starting to . . . I'm starting to see the professor who used to make me smile again. He somehow knows how to bring that man out in you, but you just keep shutting us out—”

“That's enough, Flora.” Layton was through with this conversation.

But she wasn't. Balling her fists and tears spilling from her eyes, she shouted back, “No! It's not enough! Nothing I do is ever enough.” She furiously wipes her tears away as he takes a step back. “It's like I'm not even here most days. You just don't see me. You've never given me the opportunity to be there for you and how can I when I know nothing about you?”

As she continued to wipe away her tears, he felt himself grow heavy with remorse. She wasn't wrong. He hadn't thought of any of what she was telling him, not in depth. But she wasn't wrong. Stepping forward, hands outstretched, he stopped just before he came in contact with her. She covered her mouth and closed her eyes. “Flora, I'm sorry,” he murmured. “I never realized—”

“I don't know what you've been through. I don't know what you've seen. But Descole and Luke saw it too, whatever it was, and none of you ever really recovered from it. And I just wish I knew how best to help you,” she said through her hands.

As she cried, he felt himself growing heavier. Holding out his arms, she was the one who stepped into his embrace. He held her tight, unsure of what else to do. The guilt he felt pulled at his insides as he whispered, “I'm the one who's supposed to be there for you. I'm sorry. I've failed at that many times.”

“I don't care how many times you say that. It's not true. You're not just supposed to care for me. We're supposed to take care of each other.”

He tightened his hug. “I'm really not so good at this.”

He felt her chuckle. “You think?” There was a pause before she pulled away and asked. “Please. Please tell me what really happened? Because it really doesn't feel like you're just angry with him over the fact that he almost killed you and left.”

Layton closed his eyes. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to go into details. So he wouldn't. He'd tell her the basics, because that was all she really needed to know. That was all she wanted to know. Sighing, he said, “Luke talked about his home in Misthallery. He talked about the adventures we all went on, right?” She nodded. “I met him in Misthallery. Descole, I mean. He was behind the specter incident that brought Luke and I together.” He closed his eyes. “After that incident, I knew he was becoming obsessed with me. I'm sure he'll deny it now, but that's what it was. And I was becoming . . . intrigued as well. No, I didn't go into this expecting to develop feelings or any sort of attachment to my . . . stalker, for lack of a better term. From what I can remember, he didn't necessarily expect himself to care either. But we did. It complicated . . . everything.”

She paused, then squinted up at him. “Why didn't Luke ever mention him?”

Layton closed his eyes. “Luke hated him for what he'd done to his home. Luke hated him for many other reasons, but something happened to change his attitude towards Descole. The two had somehow grown closer on one of our journeys. It was the journey where Descole actually came to us for help in the form of his true persona. We didn't recognize him, but we should have. Looking back, it was rather obvious who he was. But on that journey, Descole almost gave his life protecting Luke. I think Luke made a promise with himself never to speak ill of Descole again after that. He never got to thank him. I know that bother Luke on some level.”

Flora nodded, accepting this. “And then he left?”

It was Layton's turn to cover his face. “He did. After he revealed his identity and we all . . . died. To this day, I'm not entirely certain what happened, but I was certain we were done for and the next moment we were waking up in a crumbling ruin.” He shook his head. “I must have blocked out most of it, but Luke remembered the incident in vivid detail. I think Descole does as well.”

“I'm not sure I would want to remember, just thinking about their night terrors and all,” she said honestly.

He was thankful that that was her response, because he couldn't go into elaborate detail about the Azran legacy even if he wanted to. “The important thing is that while we were running out, Descole was walking back into the temple without an ounce of hesitation. I thought . . . I thought he'd killed himself that day. He'd spoken of not caring for his own life, and I remember very clearly that he was not opposed to the idea of dying in that sanctuary.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he staved off his emotions as much as he was capable of. “I thought I'd failed to save yet another individual who'd come to be of some importance to me.”

“Professor,” she wrapped her arms around him, “you can't blame yourself for everything that goes wrong.” He said nothing but returned her embrace, trying with all his might not to recall everything about that time in his life. It shocked him that her embrace actually helped him regain some of his composure. He wasn't expecting the next question she pitched, though, and it may as well have knocked him back ten paces. “He's still important to you, isn't he?”

Layton didn't know how to answer, wasn't sure he had an accurate answer to begin with. This time, she didn't recoil at his lack of response. She seemed to understand how difficult it was for him to decide. Hugging him tighter, it was like she was trying to reassure him without using words. This level of support made him recall what he hadn't told her, what would probably have answered her question as to why he was trying so hard not to feel anything. He refrained from telling her perhaps the realest reason why he had been distancing himself from her. She didn't need to hear that fear, not after she'd tried so hard to convince him that she wanted to help. 

Little did he know that Flora was already formulating a plan with this newly discovered information.

:)

Two more days into Descole's stay and Layton's hiatus, Flora had found the perfect moment to strike. She just needed to get the nerve up to do it.

In just a few nights, she had begun to realize just how repressed Layton's emotions were. She also realized Descole was hiding some feelings of his own. She'd taken great care to learn his expressions despite the mask, and the look he got when Layton left the room was reminiscent of the look Paul got when he was remembering something or someone from the days before his rivalry with the professor.

Basically she'd come to discover through careful observation that both men were emotionally stunted and too stubborn to admit that they missed each other. Descole was not the only toddler in the house as far as she was concerned. She also knew very well that one discussion with Layton was not going to fix their situation. He needed to open up to someone, and she'd learned a long time ago that that person was never going to be her. He'd tried. She had to credit him with his attempt the other day, but he was still very much alone in his own mind. She could tell.

Key in hand, Layton was now in his room with Descole. Listening to them briefly, she rolled her eyes. Of course they were arguing. That was how they dealt with awkward situations, and Descole's episode (which he had not addressed in the slightest) was definitely their most awkward situation yet.

She crept towards the door, making sure neither man heard her. When her palm was on the doorknob, Descole was just turning his head towards her. Pulling the door shut, she managed to lock it much quicker than she had originally thought she would. With that done, she clasped the key to her chest and closed her eyes. Letting out a loud exhale and leaning her back against the wall, she steeled herself for the inevitable protests.

“Flora? What are you doing?” Wow, that was much calmer than she'd anticipated. The professor must not have realized what she'd done as of yet.

There was still time. “I've made the . . . executive decision to put the two of you in timeout.” Yeah. That sounded very serious. They were bound to take that seriously. Who was she kidding? Only herself. “I'm leaving the two of you in there until I get back. I'll be out running errands. You two . . . work it out. Whatever it is, work it out.”

“Did you think this through entirely?” Layton was starting to take on that tone he usually got when he was being tested by a puzzle.

“Hmph!” she declared. Of course she'd thought this through. Who did he think she was? “When I come back, the two of you had better have settled things. Or killed each other. Preferably the former.”

“Flora, this is a bad idea!” Descole chimed in. Well, he'd already expressed his doubt in her judgment. His comment wasn't that surprising.

Picking up her purse from the coffee table, she called back, “I'll be back soon.” By soon, she meant she would be back that night. They needed all day together. It probably wouldn't solve anything, but it was a start in the right direction. She hoped. If they got truly desperate to get out, she had hidden a second key in Layton's closet. She wasn't about to tell them that, though. Then what would have been the point of locking them up in the first place? Sure, what she was doing was slightly cruel, but these two were intelligent. They'd work it out. Stepping outside, she let out another exhale. Even if things went well, they would be upset with her when she returned. For now, she had to pray her plan worked. She whispered to herself, “Please don't die.” Anything less than that would be good news. She was glad to have set her standards so high as she left to meet Paul.

**Author's Note:**

> Another update tomorrow kids. That one will be interesting. You shall see.


End file.
